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By J. E. RANKIN. 



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He Mint is witliont sill among yon, let Iiiiu first cast a stone." 
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" Wt'tl Hrupifiit /{oif'ff on' ritft nac alnn*,. 



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WASHINGTON, D.C.: 

William Ballantyne, Publisher. 

1873. 



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Reed & Woodward, Printers 401 Tth St. 




NOTA BENE. 



As the Author has been requested to publish the lines read 

at the late Barns Anniversary^, in this City, he has 

taken occasion to embrace with them three other 

memorial poems on the same theme ; one of 

which was read at a similar festival 

two years ago. Nothing can be 

fitter, than to 

DEDICATE THEM ALL, AS HE DOES, 



TO 



at whose beautiful home the late anniversary was held, with 
fair faces, noblest eloquence and sweetest song, and 
with none of the accompauiments, which sometimes 
violate the Christian sentiments of those who at 
once lament the faults, admire the trans- 
cendent genius, and revere the 
memory of 

Washington, D. C, January 27, 1873. 





In mud-higg' d Ayr shire- cottage horn, 

Amang woodlands and heather ; 
When ootdoor heasties were forlorn, 

In cauld, mid-winter weather ; 
When sprin^in' larks nae langer mountit 

Aboon the simmer meadows ; 
JSfor could the floatin' duds he countit 

T hurnies, hy their shadoius; 
Just as his mountain- daisy glintit 

Beneath the heating storm. 
On earth, unheraldit, unhintit. 

Appeared the Poet's form. 
The cottage wa's his faither huildit, 
Ane single day, the strainger shieldit ; 
Then, hy the heatin' tempest crujnhlit, 
Ahoot his heid, untimely tumhlit : 
Mither an' wean, to neehors driven, 
Bravin' the snawy airts o'heaven. 



II. 
And, yet, this was the cenVry's ciloe-floiv'r, 

Glintin' in cottage, not imnansion ; 
Hoardit her sweetness till that hour. 

To gVe it ane expansion I 
A prince, his sceptred realm to talc' 

In province lang kept waitin' ; 
A prophet, silence lang to hrak' 

An' gVe man's cause re-statin'; 
A seer, a' fause things to pierce, 

An' strip them o' their mantle ; 
To haud them ivi' a seizure fierce. 

An' slay them hy the hantle : 
An' , yet, a poet, sent to mark 

An' lo'e ilk simplest beastie ; 
Frae coiv' rin' mouse, to mountin' lark, 

Foised upward fj^ae her nestie! 

III. 
But, not frae Life's rough ivork was bought 

For him, the least exemption : 
At his ain task, he painfu' wrought: 
He strugglit, suff'rit, felt, and thought, 
Fschewin' nane, and shrinkin' naught, 

Till Death brought him redemption. 



J\l*ae thornless road through Life he sought, 

Just where he was, he entered: 
He dealt his blows, where ithers fought. 

There where the battle centered I 
Frae early dawn, ahint the plew. 

Until the sun was settin': 
The mornin' an' the e'enen dew 

His fit right manly wettin\ 

IV. 

Sprung frae a man, ivho feared his God, 

An' a true-hertit mither : 
They wrung their livin' frae the sod, 

An' divalt in lo'e thegither. 
They read, they knelt, they sang their 
psalm. 

Their praise by faith indited ; 
Tmirk, came doun, Gude's light an' calm. 

An' a' their ills zvere rightit. 
He taught the younkers what he kenn'd; 

His ain, hard-purchased learnin' ; 
Seekin', ilk night, at hame to blen' , 

The tutor wi' his earnin'. 
When still he was a bairn V years, 

He gie'd a manly shouther : 



He teiih man's share d luaes and tears ; 

He teuk Life's ivarly bother. 
An' when his saunt-lihe faither died, 

Because he was the auldest, 
T front, to stem grim poortith's tide 

Re stood him, like the hauldest. 
Twas his to tak' the guidm^an's place. 

An' spread the big ha' Bible ; 
Or, bonnet-aif, to speah the grace 

The lave aroun' the table. 

V. 

A thoughtfu' , stoopin' lad he grew, 

As though beneath some burden ; 
A lad o' moods, wha hardly knew 

His life, a bane or guerdon I 
Though now an' then, when sairly prest. 

He spak' in sic het fashion; 
Som^e wrang to man or beast redrest, 

Kindlit to burnin' passion. 
A swarthy, well-knit chiel he leaked, 

Wi' black een coal-like burnin'; 
Wha never slight nor insult brook' d ; 

JVor tVue man's lo'e was spurnin : 



Weel-pleased, to please his hrither'TmcLn 

JYor his ain pride concealit : 
Though inieo sharp afa.iit to scan, 

Still, tender aft to shieV it. 
Kennin' and l&ein' weel the guid, 

WV herts na proud nor frigid, 
Thoitgh paintit mash, he aften pu'd 

Frae higotit and rigid : • 
A chiel to gaze at, when he passed, 

An' when he spak' to hear hiin ; 
Angered, to male' ane leuk aghast : 

To mak ane lo'e and fear him : 
JYae ivealclin' nursed on Fortune's knee. 

And in her lap saft dandled; 
JVor even ivhen he erred, to he 

By man tQo rudely handled. 
But, tim'rous things still lo'ed his ea'. 

Ilk flow' r he tender fondlit ; 
He pluck' d the wee-thing frae itsfa', 

An' it nice mither handlit. 

VI. 

A strange compound o' lo'e an' het, 
Still kept within, unuttered : 

A bird, the sky untried as yet, 

Whase wings aft wildly fluttered : 



To Mm denied the scholar's leiih, 

To ken the rede o' sages ; 
But j)artial JVature spread her beuk 

The wider, ivi' bright pages : 
A' sights and soun's that came frae her 

To him had halie ineajiin'; 
He was %er daily worshiper 

Aboon the furrow leanin' ; 
He saw her V the wimplin' burn, 

An' V the blue-e'e'd woman : 
Frae mouse and lark had tact to learn 

Su' thin' 'twas a' maist human : 
His nature was sae large aboot, 

An' orb so grandly roundit, 
High thing or low, he speired it oot, 

An' spak it, when he found it. 
For, ivhen, belyve, his tongue he fan' , 

In satire grave, or humor, 
There was nae chiel V a' the Ian' , 
The waggin' o't, could iveel ivithstam' ; 

For sae comes doun the rumor ! 
The s aunts, he fear' d them not ava, 

But tauld their creature-failin's ; 
His verse was heard V cot an' ha' , 
Jfoo ringin' oot in accents braw, 



Then sad wV pidr man's ailin's; 
The very doggies, too, f and tongues, 

An' at ilk ither rattlit : * 
Discoursin' wV inflatit lungs 

On themes that men had hattlit ; 
Tlie brigs themsels] ahoon the Ayr, 
Were heard, ane night, disputing- 

Were barely kept frae pu' in' hair, 
The Ayr, alarm' d doun-shootin' ! 

An' then, he strode the warloch waH' 
As though its laird an master .; 

An' ghaistly hizzies set aivhirl, 
JVor risk'd puir Tarn's disaster. 

Discoursed to him, e'en Death himsel'. 
That day he met the Doctor : 

While he preach' d to Auld JYick as well 
As though he'd been his proctor. 

The harvest-gajxgs wad aften pause, 
T very het o' siT}%mer, 

To hear his tongue deal ready blaws 
Or catch o' wit his glimmer ; 

He'd stap the blacksmith at his worh, 
Haudin' the lifiit hammer ; 
An' set the loiterers roun' the kirk 



At noontide, V a clamor : 

Like some ta' tree still to the groun' 
Its frute profuse doon-shaldn^ 

Regardless wha the treasure foun' , 
Or wha, it hame ivas talcin\ 

VII. 

In him, the pair dumb heasties fan' 

A, judge an' a^ defender! 
Their ivrangs to right, his was the han\ 

To state, his voice sae tender I 
An' ivhen he tauld his ain true lo'e, 

The sternies seem'd to listen ; 
The flowers aroun' him seem'd to know. 

An' wad wV tear-draps glisten : 
The very bicrdies stilled their sangs, 

As neath them, he walk'd croonin'; 
An' seemed to catch his waes a^nd wrangs, 

Their notes to his attunin' ; 
Sae that, although his sun went down, 

Before he reached twa-score. 
His name i' ilha tongue is foun' , 

His san^s on ilha shore: 
" Siveet Afton " glides where waters curl, • 

An' "Bonnie Boon" rins roun' the warl'I 



VIII. 

'Tis true, he aft forgot MrruseV, 

An' soiVd Gude's rohes aroun' him ; 
Alas I he henn'd his wealcness well : 

JStor l&ed the chains that hound him ! 
Could he ha'e held his purpose true, 

Mor onfause currents drifted. 
His sky had been serener blue, 

Jfor wad its win's sae shifted. 
His nohler uses, had he kenned, 

Or lived man's years allotted, 
There's mony a line V passion pjenn'd. 

Ablins, he miiht have blotted : 
An' , when he came at last to see 

Death's waters surgin' roun' him, 
Wi' big ha' Bible on his knee 

Fu' aft his guid-wife foun' him,: * 
What passed, Gude kens, in thae last 
hours. 

He in the furnace walkin'. 
Between thae high contractin' powers 

Gude an' himseV there talkin : 



* See Dr. Waddell's new Life of Burns. 



He kejm'dfu' iveel the gate to choose, 

The gate sae lang forsahen : 
The gate, we a' sae sadly lose: 

Ablins, that gate was taken. 
But, ah I we'll plead nae mair his cause : 
We lo'e him still for what he ivas ! 
He was hut man, man horn & luoman. 
Had he been mair, he'd na been human. 
An' till we see his like agen, 
WWII drappit flow'rs, and^ cast nae stajie! 




15 




THE AYBSHIRB PLEUGHM&N. 



The snaw-ivhUe daisie on the hill 
Still hides her modest head ; 

The peasant drives his furrow still 
Across the wiousie's hed. 

The ha^nks are green on honnie Doon, 
Still floivs the gurglin' Ayr ; 

The woodlan' warblers are V tune, 
As ivhen they twa were there. 

The wearie cotter frae the soil 
Comes singin^ happy har}%e ; 

Catchin' as offset to his toil 
His ingle's hlinlcin' flame, 

Tossin' his wee-things haigh V air, 
Kissin' his gude-ivife's lips, 

Settlln' his limbs within his chair, 
Thankfu' his bowl he sips. 



But, where is he those scenes amang, 
Wha' scanned wV Poet's e'e ; 

Who/ as he plewed ivad croon a sang, 
Or as hairns clamh his Icnee ? 

Be Dumfries' grasses always green 
Ahoon his pleughman breast : 

An' blessings on the tender een 
That greet aroiin' his rest. 



Ife^fej^^ 



n 




11 MMMIIS KffiK¥iE&, 



In Dumfries kirkyard, lies a chiel 
Whase e'e l&e kindlit, loofivas leal; 
Proud^ Scotia's sons, they ken fu' weel, 

Though sae lang deid, 
' Tis Robert Burns, by Gude's ain seal 

A Poet made. 

In Ayrshire, did his mither bear him, 
In Ayrshire, did his daddie rear him, : 
J^or did thegreat-e'e/d beasties fear him, 

JVor nags, at plew : 
The silly sheep ran bleatin' near him, 

Wham weel they knew. 

In harvest-fields, he swung the sickle ; 
0' rural pastim.es had fu' mickle : 
At ilk mean's grief, his een wad trickle 

As at his ain : 
But, ah I too aft his will was fickle 

An' wrought man pain. 



i8 



He ivooed the secret charms o' JV^ature, 
He kenned her beauties, ilka feature ; 
The hurd, the mouse, ilk fearfu' creature 

He still hefriendit ; 
The plew- crushed daisie, he maun greet her 

Sae fair, sae endit I 

Hoiv weel he sang the sacred scene 
When cotter trudges hame at e'en, 
An' ivU his ivifie, bairns, an' wean 

Sae humbly kneels ! 
Sic halie joys the weeks ativeen 

His household feels. 

He yieldit, ah I to stormy passion. 

He madly drank, as ivas man's fashion. 

He sairly sinn'd, by his confession. 

An' suff'rit sair : 
He sadly needit Gude's compassion : 

Some need it mair. 

Let daisies weep, larks mount abo'e him. 
Let peasants come, wha read and lo'e him. 
Let a' eschew the fauts that slew him. 

An' laid him there ; 
While Dumfries kirkyard proud shall 
ha'e him. 

Or rin the Ayr ! 



*5t 




1®1I1 IPllS 



Sae lajig as Doon\s a rinninf river, 
Sae Iccng as share the daisy turns : 

Sae lang as mice at pleughinen quiver : 
Our een sal greet for Robie Burns. 

Sae lang as hlue-bells dech the heather, 
Sae lang as baum breathe Scotia' s ferns , 

Sae lang as beasties dread cauld zveather : 
Our een sal greet for Robie Burns. 

Sae lang as Highlands ha'e their Marys, 
Sae lang as starns ha'e gowden urns, 

Sae lang as lovers tine their dearies, 
Our een- sal greet for Robie Burns. 

Sae long as hame o' nights the cotter' 
Wi' achin' banes frae ivorh returns, 

T OS sin' V air, ilk gigglin' trotter ; 
Our een sal greet for Robie Burns. 



20 



Sae lang as frae his han' , the chalice 
That's tyj^ant -mixed, the patriot spurns; 

Sae lang as Scots lo'e Bruce an' Wallace; 
Our een sal greet for Bohie Burns. 

Sae lang as man forgVes his hrither, 
Sae lang's to work his guid he yearns : 

Sae lang's the weak maun help ilk ither ; 
Our een sal greet for Bohie Burns- 

Sae lang as Dumfries' sod lies vernal, 
Where mony a hert his story learns : 

We'll fling the husk, and tak' the kernel : 
Our een sal greet for Bohie Burns, 




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